Mexico Mi Amor
by L3af Con3yb3ar
Summary: A group of friends enjoying a trip in Mexico embark on a remote expedition in the jungle. Little do they know about the evil source that lurks among the ruins. SLASH. Based on "The Ruins" by Scott Smith.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Tis true. I have returned! :] **

**Last week, I finished reading Scott Smith's _The Ruins_, a fabulous book I must say. This story is based on that novel and the film adaptation of the same name. I do not take credit for Mr. Smith's work, this story is out of respect. After Chainsaw '06 I was bound to do another of these! I'm not sure how often I will update, but please be patient with me. I'm not too please with this start. Yes, I know it's short. Please be patient with me.**

**Enjoy!**

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_Prologue_

_*~*~*_

_Darkness.  
_

_Pure darkness.  
_

The sound of her breathing amplified as her frail, pale hands reached out in front of her, feeling around for that familiar object. Sensing movement behind her, she spun her head, her dirty blonde hair sticking to her forehead. She pushed a lock behind her ear with her shaking fingers, once manicured nails chipped, bitten, dirt beneath them. More soft whimpers and she turned toward the sound of the ringing.

About two meters away, the small rectangular object's screen lit up, the high-pitched ringing continuing. As quick as lightning, she crawled on her grimy hands and knees toward that only source of rescue. The reason she was down here. She knew _they'd_ be after her. _They_ had taken her companions. Her boyfriend. She knew that she wouldn't have long to live.

_Oh, God… Zeke…  
_

She'd seen what _they'd_ already done down here. There was no way of getting back up. Outside had grown darker nearly an hour ago. Or was it two? Three perhaps? Like it mattered… But what was taking _them_ so long? Perhaps this was torture. Perhaps _they_ wanted her to feel safe for a few hours. Perhaps at the moment _they_ were plotting _their_ next move.

Her eyes scanned the area before taking the small phone into her shaking hands. The ringing had long stopped, and yet she didn't bother to answer. She knew no help would arrive. They hadn't let her and her friends leave and if rescue were to come, who's to say they wouldn't have stopped them either? If only she had listened to the warnings.

The light from the phone disappeared, and she was once again, engulfed in darkness. It almost sounded as if she could hear laughter.

_Yes…  
_

_They_ were coming for her. She dared not move, frightened out of her mind. Her breathing reached a new volume, beads of sweat running down her already damp face.

She then felt as if a pair of arms had roughly grabbed her from behind. Another grabbed her right leg. Another snatched the phone away from her hand. She let out a penetrating cry as she was dragged into an abyss of nothingness…

_Help…  
_

The piercing ring of a cell phone commenced…

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**Author's Note: Reviews and such are appreciated. Helps me get into the suspenseful mood. :]**


	2. Taylor

**Author's Note: Update! I'm confused to say that I'm pretty impressed with this chapter! I'd like to thank and dedicate it to my first reviewer, Degenerate! Love you, guy. Continue being an inspiration! You'll notice in later events that we'll back-track to certain events that have already happened. Some detail and diction will be screwy. And you will encounter confusion. This tale will be told from each character's point of view. **

**Enjoy!**

__

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**MEXICO MI AMOR**

_Chapter I: Taylor_

_*~*~*_

We met Ryan on a day trip to Cozumel. We hired a guide to take us snorkeling over a local wreck. Unfortunately, we'd lost the buoy, and had no idea where the location was… So we spent most of the time swimming around—doing nothing. Out of the water comes Ryan, wearing a scuba tank.

_Hallo! Wie heißt du? You guys look for help? _

We told him our situation, and in his accent, he told us the location of the wreck—even led us to it. He was twenty-one, German, blonde hair, handsome blue eyes, about five feet, ten inches. Starting just above his belly button, he had a tattoo of a snake that ended on his left thigh--some words, in German, I didn't understand along the side of the snake. He was quite friendly—in a quiet way. He joined our guide's boat back to shore. We'd return to Cancun later that night.

For lunch we ate at the small cafe—the Pequeno Café, the four of us (Gabriella, Troy, Chad, and I), including Ryan sat at a table close to the bar, where our waiter, Javier, finished taking our orders. At least a dozen times before our food arrived, I'd seen the blonde casually glance over at Chad, attempting to hide his diffident smile.

I thought it obvious that this guy was gay. Of course, I never believed in 'gaydar' and the very mention of the word made me angry.

Yes, Chad was gay—one of eight reasons we'd never work out. I still considered him a very close friend.

Ryan continued to stare. I pretended not to notice, quietly sipping my Dr. Pepper and listening to Troy and Gabriella go on and on and on about whatever plans they had tonight. On our occasional foursomes, those two would normally entertain themselves with their romantic love-gestures. I admit I felt _some_ tint of jealousy. I'd sort of been crushing on Troy Bolton ever since junior high school. I would never admit that. Gabriella transferred, and those two were inseparable. I, in a desperate search to find "love," began a relationship with another boy who was also on the basketball team with Chad and Troy: Drew.

Chad looked up from his Sidekick—his long, curly, brown locks bouncing along. Perhaps he felt he was being watched. He looked over toward the blonde, the two sharing a long, wordless conversation, Chad's brown eyes meeting _his_ gorgeous blue ones. I simply knew these two would sooner or later get along perfectly. Chad always had a thing for cute blondes.

As we ate, Ryan told us about his home life back in Germany. He'd come to Mexico with his twin sister, Sharpay, her boyfriend, Zeke, and three of her best girlfriends, but she had suddenly gone missing. It was a rather confusing story; I couldn't understand much of the details. Whenever Troy asked him about it, Ryan became very upset, delving into German and frantically waving his hands. He'd even stormed away from the table, tears threatening to fall. It'd taken five minutes for me to persuade Gabriella to go after him, console him without any mention of his sister. I had suddenly lost my appetite, my heart aching for the blonde. Troy thought that drugs were involved in the situation and Ryan was on the run from the authorities (I'm not sure how he got that…). I thought it best to no longer push the subject and leave it alone.

…

_Drugs, Troy? I wonder how you came up with that conclusion._

_Gee, Taylor, I don't know. I don't ever remember taking German at East High, do you?_

_Oh, fuck you._

_You'd like that, wouldn't you? I'm happily taken. Thanks though--_

_Troy—_

_Believe me, that is not a road you want to go down with me, Bolton._

_Guys, enough! Maybe we should, y'know, layoff? He looks like he's having a rough time with this._

_Chad's right… That means no offensive questions, Troy. Didn't your mother ever teach you about making assumptions?_

_I only wanted to help._

_Some help you've done, the poor boy's a mess._

_Let's invite him back to the hotel. _

_Moving a little fast, aren't we Chad? I mean, you've only met him no less than twelve hours ago._

_Must you fuck with everyone?_

_Relax…_

_Funny, Troy. Funny._

…

The two returned as we were leaving the café. Gabriella had invited Ryan to the bonfire near the hotel, and he agreed to come along, Chad concurring that "lots and lots of booze would do him good." Ryan was naturally quiet and reserved. The rest of the time, we spent trying to cheer him up—Chad telling funny stories, Gabriella doing silly imitations, I even ordered them to take photos—yes, my first year at Yale shoved me into an obsession with photography.

We all agreed to walk along the beach for at least an hour, our bus arriving around seven. It was an extremely humid day in August. Gabriella continuously complained about the heat, resulting in Troy losing his temper, telling her that she was ruining it for everyone. This was only one of many fights between the couple—simply a schizophrenic aspect of their relationship. One moment they're "lovey-dovey," the next they're at each other's throats.

Gabriella and I were both nineteen. For the trip, we cut our hair. If it weren't for our skin, one would mistake us as sisters. She was the more outgoing one, me the fair, quiet one. Just my passive nature, I guess. We were both small girls, a few inches over five feet.

Troy and Chad had been best friends ever since pre-school. When they were ever together, they were complete clowns. When divided, Troy would sink into serious-mode, Chad on the verge of being zombie-like. It must have been hard for the two to separate for college—Troy going to Berkeley and Chad staying in Albuquerque. But Troy simply wanted to stay near Gabriella. He had—I guess you could say—the typical, handsome pretty-boy features. He was tan with short, black hair (he had cut and dyed it for our school's production of _Hairspray_—a request from Darbus--and chose to leave it that way), about six feet, two inches—Chad about an inch taller. Both were twenty.

It had been Troy's idea to travel. He thought it'd be a great idea for him and Gabriella to spend time together—away from school. It'd be three weeks on the beach, doing nothing. But… my best friend had other plans. She convinced me, who convinced Chad, to come along. Troy had no objections whatsoever. He still kicks himself for not even thinking about including us.

I found my skin beginning to burn from being in the sun so long, some of it peeling off. Gabriella complained, not much of a surprise. Complaints from Troy about her complaining ensued, bickering to follow.

…

_Everyone's having a good time BUT you!_

_Well, I wasn't planning on having clouds of mosquitoes using me as a fucking buffet or having my skin burned off by this scorching heat!_

_You wanted this trip, didn't you?!_

_I wanted to go to New York, Troy! _

_It was a good deal! Sorry if I wanted to spend time with you before school!_

_We could've spent time at a nice, Italian restaurant right now, but no…_

_Gabi, you're really beginning to irritate me with these endless complaints._

_Whatever. _

_Look, baby, just please try and make the best of this. _

_Just… when we get back to the hotel prepare to spoil me with a long, hot bath… alcohol…and lots of orgasms… _

_Deal._

…

That was our cue to leave. Chad, Ryan, and I found a booth that was selling these delicious snow cones—cherry for Chad and I, a mix of pina colada and strawberry for Ryan. After a while, the lovebirds finally joined us, having reconciled. If they were to keep that bullshit up, I may have shoved a large plant down _both_ of their throats.

Having convinced Ryan to join us back at the hotel, we gathered at the bus stop, as the charter bus screeched to a stop. We and the other tourists boarded, the process taking a while—a couple had lost their child. I would've offered to help but Troy didn't think it was a good idea to separate ourselves. Thankfully, they found the little girl safe. It seems she found her way to the snow cone stand that Chad, Ryan, and I went to.

It was okay to breathe again.

There were two seats to each side on each row. Troy and Gabriella sat together, Chad and Ryan (and I didn't object—I could not even _begin_ to fathom how cute I thought those two were), and I sat alone, offering to watch Bliss—the little girl—since her parents were sitting together. I felt it made up for me not helping to look for her. Why, oh, why was I such a thoughtful person?

She had quickly fallen asleep, and so I quietly read my book, _City of Thieves_, as the bus drove on to our destination.

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**Author's Notes: Gosh, I miss Mexico. Well, I'd like to leave a little note regarding reviews. If you have it in your mind set to leave a review like, "i luv this, its a good story, update." please don't bother. I prefer reviews that actually help me with my writing. Give me a little (like a sentence or two) feedback. What'd you like/hate about it? What am I doing right/wrong? Give me _something_ to help better this story! If you're willing to step up to the challenge, click the button below.**

**I shall have an update shortly. Peace.**


	3. Chad

**Author's Note: Alas, an update! I kinda doubt anyone's really reading these... except the ones I've forced to read this... sorry guys. XD I'm not too happy with the ending of this chapter. Anyway, just read and review.**

**Warning: Implied Male-on-Male Sex and Gabriella-bashing! Yummeh.**

**Enjoy!**

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_Chapter II: Chad_

_*~*~*_

_Nett, Sie auch, den Tschad zu treffen._

I didn't (what does that mean?) know what it meant, but he repeated it in English later for me when we returned to shore on our guide's boat. He stripped out of (holy shit… fuck me) his scuba suit, I noticed a bandage wrapped around his shoulder.

_Nice to meet you too, Chad._

We were silent for most of the ride back, Taylor endlessly snapping photos of the ocean and some boats as we passed them. Before this trip, I never knew she had a fascination for photography. That thing was like glued to her hands now. Troy was reading a brochure, probably pondering what we'd do later today (control freak), or tomorrow, I didn't care. We had all already agreed on going to the bonfire on the beach. Gabriella sat back, basking in the sun, her long, (stupid fucking cunt, stupid fucking cunt, stupid fucking _cunt_…) curly black hair flying in the wind. At least now she wasn't _bitching_ about the sun. Honestly, ever since _high school_ I couldn't stand her (… stupid fucking cunt, stupid fucking cunt, stupid fucking _whore_).

I knew Ryan was speaking (what?) to me in a low, quiet voice. I wasn't listening, though. Not really to be rude, but I just wasn't that interested in what he was saying. I just sat looking over the side of the boat at the water. I contemplated sticking my hand in (nah… let's not have a repeat of the senior-year trip), decided not to.

He was skinny. Did this boy _ever_ eat? He didn't look like one of those (gollum) kids in Africa that you'd see in one of those commercials (cut to me flipping the channel to basketball game), but he was close. Not that I liked fat people (gross) or anything, they were somewhat repulsing to me. But a little meat never hurt (maybe he could have some of _my_ meat) anyone. After a moment, I didn't mind that much anymore. It wasn't my place to judge him. Perhaps I was being biased, like Taylor always said.

_Of course you'd say that, Chad. You're pretty muscular yourself._

Basketball helped. Both Troy and I played together in high school. Now that we went to different colleges, we'd play against each other, but it was as if we'd play one-on-one in Troy's backyard after school, so it was cool. This trip couldn't be any better. We could've done without his chick though (stupid fucking slut).

She was so phony it was unbelievable. That entire shy, quiet façade she'd displayed in high school was complete crap. In reality she was a promiscuous, loud bitch who got _everything_ she wanted. Taylor wanted Troy--I knew this. didn't tell him--but Gabriella couldn't let that happen. She was an alcoholic whenever she came in possession of it. She never knew when to quit (never knew how to handle it either). It was no secret she cheated on Troy (once even with that tool drew). All the time. He was the only one blinded by her act. Yes, Taylor knew. But she said that that "one little weakness about her friend shouldn't affect [their] relationship." But I knew there was pain behind those words. I would've liked to leave her out in the middle of the ocean, like that one movie about the couple whose boat leaves them out at sea. Then the rest of the movie is them being eaten by sharks. _Classic…_

Back at the hotel in Cancun, we had gotten one large suite for the four of us. Troy and Gabriella in one room, with another for Taylor and I. Separate beds of course. Don't get me wrong, I loved Taylor as if she was my little sister (but we didn't love each other _that_ much). I would _kill _for her. I almost did, too.

At East High, she began a relationship with this other guy on the basketball team, Drew. The team was pretty cool with him; Troy and I were cool with him. So they both had our blessings. But after a couple of months I noticed scars on Taylor. Plus, she seemed more distant. Someone had to have been hurting her. I immediately figured it was Drew.

I still think that removal from the team and expulsion from school was simply not enough (hope your use of legs was fun while it lasted…).

It turns out that Ryan was also staying in this hotel, but on a different floor. I thought we would stop by his room later to remind him about the bonfire, but Taylor insisted I hang out with him a little while so that she could rest. Best of luck to her. There was no way she would be able to sleep should Troy and Gabriella start up again. Then again, I guess it would make up for ignoring Ryan back on the boat.

Was Taylor trying to hook us up?

I followed Ryan back to his room, both of us in total silence. It turned out Sharpay had left a note. He found it in one of his suitcases, the entire thing in German, with a hand-drawn map at the very bottom. I couldn't read it of course. And Ryan didn't bother translating it out loud, but he assured me that it was nothing about drugs or the police. Typical Troy making assumptions. Sharpay had met a boy on the beach (didn't ryan say she had a boyfriend?) and he had flown in the same morning, on his way to the interior, where he was hired for an archaeological dig. She had faked sick (sounds like me back in high school…) in order to get out of jet-skiing with Zeke and her friends. She and the boy spent the entire day together. He bought her lunch. She took him back to her hotel room. They fucked.

I had stopped Ryan there. Taylor sent a text (or five) telling me that she and Gabriella would meet us on the beach. Troy decided not to go. He and Gabriella had another blowout and he went straight to bed (_DAMN IT!_) afterwards. That bitch had to ruin _everything_. Why were they fighting so much now anyway?

Ryan and I met Taylor and Gabriella outside near a gazebo where the band played. The sky was completely dark now. After an hour or so of walking along the beach, we returned to the gazebo, Gabriella and Taylor danced to the music, leaving Ryan and I alone at the bar. I bought him a drink and we talked some more. He continued from where he last left off, in a low, quiet voice (i cannot hear a thing you are saying) as usual. He needed to learn how to speak up.

The boy left on a bus the next day. During lunch the day before, Ryan thought, [the boy] drew the map of where they'd be digging for Sharpay. When he left, she couldn't stop talking about him—at least not in front of Zeke. One night, she went into Ryan's room, announcing that she would go find him the following morning. He was furious, questioning her as to why she'd do that to Zeke. She exclaimed that it wasn't any of his business and insisted that Ryan stop treating her like a child (sounds like someone else i know).

He called her a tramp. One: she had already had a boyfriend who loved her very much. Two: she only met the stranger and this was a vacation for the _five_ of them. Three: she knew NOTHING about archaeology. What was she going to tell Zeke?

The two continued to exchange hateful names as she packed. She threw a curling iron at Ryan, hitting him in the shoulder (so that's why he had that bandage) after he threatened to tell Zeke about the situation. He pulled on some clothes and went downstairs to the all-night bar.

Three beers later...

He got back to the room, Sharpay was gone. Even more strange, Zeke and the girls were gone. She left the note in his suitcase. It was about three-quarters of a page long. I was curious about the map though. It was Wednesday and their flight was to leave on Friday.

_I go… I get her… I take her home, right?_

Was he asking for my advice? I guess if he left early tomorrow, they'd be back by the end of the day. It could work. Ryan shrugged and waved at the paper laying on the bar before folding it and placing it into his pocket. We sat in silence for a moment, the music had changed (hey, i know this song…) and more people made their way toward the band. I moved my head with the rhythm, watching Gabriella and Taylor dance with each other. Those two had practically become a couple (ew) since Gabriella came to East High.

_Möchten Sie tanzen, Chad?_

_What?_

A soft laugh. I literally could not hear him over the music. That and the fact that he needed to start speaking up. He leaned in closer to my ear.

_Would you like to dance?_

_With you?_

_No—with my father._

I smiled (aha, i get it—_rent_) and held out a hand to him. He took it, leading me to a spot on the floor. Oddly enough, I noticed Gabriella and Taylor were no longer near us. They were sitting at a table with three other guys whom, of course, I didn't (we didn't) even know. Big Brother kicked in, but Ryan turned my face away from them—I think he wanted me to focus on him. And how could I not? Despite his weight and annoying whisper-voice, he wasn't that bad looking (fucking hot). He turned his body--his lower-half grinding on my lower-half, obviously sparking some… excitement down there. He took my arms, wrapping them around his torso (does he want me to take him right here and now?) then placing his around my neck, his hips never ceased to stop moving.

As soon as the song started, it had ended, and the band started playing a slower one. I took Ryan's hand, leading him toward the girls and the three men. They were the Greeks. They didn't speak English. We assumed they were in their early twenties, and they seemed friendly enough. Of course there was barely any conversation between us, so it was just a lot of smiling and nodding. They told us their names (spanish names) in their odd accents—Pablo, Don Quixote, and Juan—while gesturing at their chests. They all looked alike—wide broad, shoulders, their long, dark hair tied back in ponytails.

As the night went on, we learned that they were heavy (_HEAVY!_) drinkers. Pablo had removed two bottles of tequilas from his backpack and each of us passed it around. Taylor—at first—refused, insisting it made her sick. But Don Quixote, in his cunning manner, continually pushed the bottle toward her direction until she gave in. I found myself unable to keep track of who was who. Maybe they were trading names around. At one point, the Greek who had first identified himself as Juan (or don quixote?) would—thirty minutes later—claim he was Pablo.

As the night when on, there was much talking, much laughter, and us getting very, very drunk. The bottles passed back and forth. The Greeks clapped their hands in rhythm with the music; I winced each time I felt the burning sensation (…damn) go down my throat. I turned to see Gabriella embracing (THAT _WHORE!_) Don Quixote. Taylor and Ryan were also probably too drunk for it to bother them, but this was my best friend's girlfriend making out with someone we met a couple of hours ago! Being drunk was not an excuse. Five minutes of kissing as he groped at her mosquito-bite breasts. The band was then finished for the night. A lot of people had already started leaving, so it was only us, plus five or six others.

I watched him lean toward her and whisper something in her ear. She smiled and shook her head, planting another kiss on his cheek (fucking whore) before standing and swaying over to Taylor. She fell on top of her, and they both burst into a fit of giggles. Ryan watched them, smiling. He stood up, brushing the sand off his pants before offering a hand to me. I looked over at the girls again (still laughing their asses off)—Taylor smacked a hand on Gabriella's and took Ryan's hand, he pulled me. Pablo helped up Taylor, and Don Quixote did the same for the other.

Our group parted with theirs at the hotel lobby, Gabriella offering the Greek another kiss (slut) and Pablo hugging Taylor (afterwards, i'd watch him very, very closely). We went our separate ways, stepping into the elevator. I could tell we were all still very, very drunk. Whatever. I'd fucking roast Gabriella for what she'd done in the morning.

_They are soooo cute… Do you think I should've went with Juan? Or was that Pablo again? Troy would never miiiind…_

We stopped on the fifth floor to let out Gabriella and Taylor. I decided I would walk Ryan to his.

We walked toward the end of the hallway, at door 56. He slid his keycard through the door and turned the handle. He turned to me before speaking in his quiet accent:

_Do you want to come in?_

Did I want to come in (yes, yes, yes!)? What would end up happening? Was I moving too fast? Maybe he knew I liked him. It was obvious he liked me a lot. I couldn't blame him, I am a sexy beast. So I said:

_Why not?_

I followed him inside. We said nothing more. Our eyes, hands, moans did most of the talking. After all, we were very, very drunk.

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**Author's Note: -Bawls- That was horrible! HORRIBLE! Watch for an update! **

**We will get some action sooooon..**


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